A View to a Kill
by Zulon
Summary: Sequel to 007 Rogue Agent. An investigation into the murder of a Chinese businessman started by 003 leads Bond to the land Down Under. Aided by the beautiful Alura McCall of Australian Intelligence and the Overseas Development Group, 007 must halt the schemes of Max Zorin before it's too late.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Ground Zero

Location: Pamir Mountains, Tajikistan

11:42pm...

* * *

A full moon hung in the night sky as a Mikoyan MiG-29 – armed to the teeth descended from the sky, landing within a small, understaffed military base. 007 was hiding within the shadows, dressed in the attire of one guards he had neutralized as he waited for the trade off to take places.

"Landing zone is clear for arrival," the pilot reported.

The sound of rotor-blades filled the air as a single helicopter passed overhead and landed within the courtyard, not far away from a military jeep.

"007, intelligence reports that a nuclear suitcase bomb stolen from the ex-soviet stockpile, has surfaced in Southern Tajikistan. Unfortunately it's about to change hands, the wrong hands. We cannot allow this to occur. Recover the bomb and bring it back," M ordered, speaking through his earpiece.

He watched as a spectacled man dressed in a suit, with a brown fedora and an overcoat disembarked from the aircraft. Fedora was followed by a redheaded woman dressed in a tight-fitting black cat suit and carrying a suitcase with her and several armed guards. They looked nothing like the terrorist that headquarters made out to be, then again it wasn't as if they'd announce their intentions. A general-type figure was waiting for them, backed by several soldiers that he had chosen to disguise himself as. The woman opened the suitcase, revealing a large amount of currency packed inside, though it was impossible to tell what type of currency it was.

"One hundred million as we agreed," the man said with a gravelly voice, "you have the device?"

"Of course," the General answered with a wave of his arm.

Another of the soldiers appeared with a suitcase revealing a canister-like device with two small cylinders next to it, packed in black Styrofoam.

"Well. What we have here," Bond murmured, gazing at the device through the scope of his sniper rifle

"It's confirmed 007, that's the device. A Soviet PU239 with 12 kiloton yield. You are authorized to use all means necessary to retrieve that case," M said.

"Understood," 007 acknowledged.

Bond swung his sniper rifle across the courtyard, scanning for something that could be used as a distraction and spotted a rack of missiles. He carefully adjusted the scope of the sniper rifle and zoomed in on the very tip of the warhead and quickly fired so as to derail the exchange. The warhead exploded in a brilliant fireball and set off a chain-reaction that detonated the other missiles. One of the terrorist had the unfortunate luck of being close to the exploding missile and was hurled across the courtyard.

"IT'S A TRAP! KILL THEM!" the Fedora wearing terrorist ordered.

A firefight erupted between the two opposing groups as Bond ditched the sniper rifle and raced across the courtyard, taking cover behind a pillar. He pulled the scarf down from around his face, allowing it to hang loosely around his neck as he un-slung the SIG 552 assault rifle from off his back. The terrorists and the soldiers had done him the favor of eliminating one another, and all he had to do was step out from behind cover and mow down the survivors. The suitcase nuke was dropped by the soldier holding it after taking three bullets to the chest and was knocked across the cobblestones in the chaos.

"This is SAS evac, eta 60 seconds," he heard a voice speak into his earpiece.

Bond leapt over the railing and took cover behind several weapon crates as more soldiers began pouring from the adjacent buildings. He emerged from cover and fired a burst from his weapon, cutting down a nearby solider as he made a race for the briefcase. The MiG took off, firing several of it payload of missiles in a random fashion, forcing Bond to dive for cover as he watched it disappear over one of the buildings. He picked himself up off the ground and quickly raced over to the nuclear device and quickly fastened it to his belt. The sound of a pair of sliding doors caught his attention as he looked up to see a soldier armed with a rocket launcher step out onto the balcony above him. The soldier must've pulled the trigger by accident as a rocket leapt from the launcher, slamming into the ground near a doorway where another of his comrade-in-arms was exiting, killing him instantly. Bond fired at the rocket-welding solider and made a break for the door that would take him up to the balcony. Another soldier was coming down the stairs when Bond slammed into him, hitting him with a right hook, driving his knee into his chest before smashing his head first into the concrete wall. He slumped to the ground unconscious as Bond proceeded up the stairs where he found several AT-420 rocket launchers stored on racks. He watched as the MiG made a reappearance and quickly snatched one of the launchers and raced into a adjacent room, taking cover behind a wall. The SAS pilot was screaming something through his earpiece, but it was impossible to make out over the sound of the aircraft's machineguns. Bullets shattered glass and embedded themselves in the concrete as he peered out from cover. 007 quickly fired a rocket that slammed into the MiG, sending fire washing across its surface before firing on him again. He ducked back behind cover and loaded another rocket, waiting for the MiG to either stop firing on him or overheat its weapons before taking another shot. The rocket once again leapt from the launcher and collided with the MiG, black smoke pouring from it as it retreated. Bond was about to leap down to the ground below when he watched as a BTR suddenly rose out of the ground atop a freight elevator, while another swerved to a stop in the courtyard. Bond shouldered the AT-420 and fired a rocket at the closest BTR, sending pieces of burning shrapnel flying across the courtyard. Bond swung the weapon in the direction of the second BTR after reloading and launched another rocket, ending its threat. He leapt down from the balcony and went into a roll, taking cover behind a low wall as he upholstered a MP5K compact submachine gun from his thigh. Few soldiers remained and Bond easily mowed them down with the weapon, clearing a path to a hole that the MiG had blown into one of the walls. His leg muscles were burning as he raced across the courtyard; the need to reach the extraction point before reinforcements arrived becoming overwhelming as the MiG returned to harass him. The aircraft bobbed and weaved out of control before falling out of the sky. Bond dove through the hole as it crashed: the resulting fireball lighting up the night sky as he picked himself off the ground and dusted himself off. He checked to ensure that he was still in possession of the 'package' as the sound of helicopter blades filed the air. A single, black painted Aérospatiale SA 330 Puma descended from the sky, landing outside the military base. Bond raced over to the transport and climbed into the hold.

"Welcome aboard, Commander Bond," the pilot greeted.


	2. Intro

**A View to a Kill - Duran Daran**

Meeting you, with a view to a kill  
Face to face in secret places, feel the chill  
Nightfall covers me, but you know the plans I'm making  
Still oversea, could it be the whole world opening wide  
A sacred why, a mystery gaping inside  
The weekend's why

Until we dance into the fire, that fatal kiss is all we need  
Dance into the fire, to fatal sounds of broken dreams  
Dance into the fire, that fatal kiss is all we need  
Dance into the fire

Choice for you, is the view to a kill  
Between the shades, assassination's standing still  
The first crystal tears, fall as snowflakes on your body  
First time in years, to drench you skin with lovers rosy stain  
A chance to find the phoenix for the flame  
A chance to die

But can we dance into the fire, that fatal kiss is all we need  
Dance into the fire, to fatal sounds of broken dreams  
Dance into the fire, that fatal kiss is all we need  
Dance into the fire, when all we see is the view to a kill


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Agent Down

Location: London, England

Three weeks later...

* * *

The sound of his doorbell ringing brought James out of what had been a restful sleep and immediately reached for the Walther PPK hidden under his pillow. He climbed out of bed, dressed in only his pajama bottoms he threw on a bathrobe and heading into the living area located right outside his bedroom. The doorbell rang once more as flipped on the lights and peered through the peephole, discovering Bill Tanner; MI6's Chief of Staff waiting on the other side. He shifted the firearm into his left hand, removing the chain lock and deadbolt before opening the door, the cold night air spilling in.

"I'm guessing this isn't a social visit," James commented.

"I'm afraid not, 007," Tanner replied, "We've got a situation that needs immediate attention."

It was unusual for him to be making house calls, if Tanner was claiming that the situation was urgent; then it was.

"We'll talk in the kitchen," Bond said, stepping aside, allowing Tanner entry into his home.

The Chief of Staff appeared stressed and clearly wasn't in good health, not surprising since his workload had practically doubled since the departure of Charles Robinson. Bond considered Robinson's replacement from the Foreign and Commonwealth Office; Gregory Lamb to be an incompetent fool. At least when Robinson was still working as the FCO's Liaison Officer to MI6 he would often step in for Tanner whenever he was unavailable, unfortunately they were still feeling his absence.

"Coffee?" Bond asked, putting on a pot.

"Please," he said taking a seat at the island.

"What's the emergency?"

"We have reason to believe that 003 may have been killed in action," Tanner answered.

Jason Walters – 003, one of only a few active 00's who he was aware of their identities, the others being Scarlett Papava – 004, Edward Donne – 001, Jack Giddings who had become the new 006 after Trevelyan's betrayal, and Peter Smith who had long ago replaced Jonathan Hunter as 009.

"Several days ago he was investigating the murder of this man...," Tanner explained, removing an iPad from his bag.

The image on the display was of a clean shaven Anglo-Chinese man with thinning black hair, dark eyes, and a tight-looking jaw.

"This is Sir Henry Lee Ching; founder and CEO of Kohoni Industries. Knighted by Her Majesty several decades ago, became a Communist following Hong Kong's transfer."

"How was his murder of interest to MI6?"

"Kohoni Industries is the largest microchip manufacturers in China. They have a longstanding military contract with the People's Liberation Army, supplying microchips and CPUs for their computer and weapon systems."

"I can see why M would be concerned," Bond commented, "how was he killed?"

"Ching? He was killed by an unknown assailant on a motorcycle," Tanner explained, as the image was replaced by stills from a security camera, "the SBDO has been discreetly investigating who might've benefitted from his demise."

"Have any suspects been identified?"

"They were able to uncovered evidence that points to Dr. Aaron Ronberdy, one of Ching's top researchers having been involved. A large number of microchip set for distribution went missing around the same he did."

"Where did 003 track him to and how can you be sure that 003's been killed?"

"To a decommissioned military base in Siberia...that was nine hours ago, since then our satellites haven't picked up movement from his tracker," the Chief of Staff answered, "I know that we still owe you time off for Tajikistan and the Drax Incident, but we need you on this."

"I understand."

"If 003 is somehow alive then we need you to help extract him, if dead? Then retrieve whatever evidence he managed to acquire."

"When do I leave?"

"ASAP," Tanner replied, "Our satellites have been picking up increased activity amongst the slopes. We're afraid that they're searching for 003."

"Then we can't allow them to find him," Bond said.

* * *

Location: Russian Federation

Several hours later...

* * *

The frigid air stung the exposed flesh on Bond's face as he skied down the slopes of the Verkhoyansk Mountain Range, using his Smartphone to carefully following the signal coming from 003's Microchip implant. The military presence amongst the slopes had forced him to dodge patrols for the better part of two hours, but they were mercenaries not the Russian military. The sun was glistening off the snow, leaving Bond thankful that he had chosen to wear ski goggles as he continued his search for the body of Jason Walters. The snow had clearly been disturbed, likely by an avalanche and he had come to the conclusion that the fellow 00 Agent may have been buried alive. The Smartphone let out a string of beeps and Bond discarded his ski-poles, pocketing his Smartphone, and furiously began digging with his bare hands. He dug for what felt like minutes, consciously aware that he could be discovered at any moment before uncovering the frozen face of the fallen 003. A helicopter swooped overhead and Bond ducked down, his white parka allowed him to blend in with the surrounding snow, but concerns that he had been spotted immediately prompted him to continue digging out 003's frozen corpse. He had uncovered most of 003's body and immediately noticed a crimson blotch that stained the front of his parka that surrounded a bullet wound. He unzipped the parka and carefully peeled back the flaps, reaching inside for Jason's Smartphone; a Sony Xperia. He found the device hidden away within one of the inner pockets and removed it, finding that the bullet that had hit 003 had also passed through the phone. There was no way of telling how damaged the device was; hopefully MI6's Data Intelligence Group would be able to recover any data stored on it. He shoved it into his pocket and continued to frisk the corpse, looking for anything else of value when he removed a pack of cigarettes from the man's pocket. He was about to toss it aside when he felt something sliding around inside, too heavy to merely be cigarettes. Bond opened the package and dumped it into the palm of his hand, discovering that they were a pair of CPUs. He returned them to the cigarette package and placed them within the pocket of his parka and was about to continuing searching the body when he heard the sound of a rifle being cocked. Bond glanced in the direction of a nearby hill and spotted a signal soldier standing atop it, armed with an AK-47. He immediately fired, collapsing the ridge where 003's body lay as Bond threw himself out of the way. 007 dropped down into the small ravine and began skiing away from the scene with mercenaries on his tail, including that damn chopper. He heard one of the mercenaries scream as he tumbled down Verkhoyansk's icy slopes, but Bond concentrated on out running his pursuers. He dropped down the side of a hill, misjudging the distance to the ground as he slammed into the soft powder below. The chopper circled about, searching for him and immediately opened fire on him the minute he tried to ski away. Bullets from the helicopter's mounted machineguns embedded themselves into the ice and snow, shattering the ski that was attached to Bond left foot. He ditched the broken ski, but the lack of it had left him unbalanced, but he continued his escape. He stopped when the chopper veered off and noticed a snowmobile moving along the slopes below. Bond immediately reached into his pack and removed a grappling hook that was attached to a length of rope, tossing it into a nearby crevasse. He quickly slid down the side of the slope in an attempt to intercept the snowmobile as it drove past. Bond easily caught up to the unsuspecting man and attached the grapple to the back of his harness. It was then that the mercenary noticed Bond, but it was already too late, the rope went taught and the man was sling-shotted from the snowmobile. He slammed into the ground and tumbled over the side of the slope, his cries carried in the wind as he dangled helplessly. Bond discarded his remaining ski and swiped the snowmobile and took off with the helicopter in pursuit. The bullets were hitting to close to home when he leapt for cover, the vehicle exploded several seconds later when the gas tank was hit. Burning pieces of the snowmobile littered the ravine that Bond fallen into including the ski. A plan was already formulated in his mind as a pair of mercenaries positioned themselves on the ridge above. Bond quickly grabbed the ski and using it as a makeshift snowboard was able to launch himself onto the ridge. He collided with the mercs, knocking them to the ground as he took off down the slope. He sliced through the powder, the mercenaries still on his heels as he continued his decent down the mountain. There were the occasional shots fired from one of the mercenaries wielding an AK-47, but they were wide and a cause of little concern. Bond dropped into a crouch, increasing his speed as he glided across the waters of a mountain lake to the other side, though two of his pursuers weren't as lucky. 007 ditched his makeshift snowboard, running across the ice flows as the helicopter returned, targeting him with its machineguns. Bond was forced to throw himself to the ground as the bullets cut through the snow and ice, but the helicopter remained to threaten him. He removed a flare gun from his bag and watched as the door of the chopper opened allowing the passenger to take aim at him. Bond fired the flare gun into the hold, smoke pouring from it as the pilot lost control, slamming against the ground and flew into right into a ridge. The helicopter exploded in a brilliant fireball, throwing shrapnel across a wide area as Bond noticed the Union Jack painted on the roof hatch of a sub cleverly disguised as an iceberg. He jumped from ice flow to ice flow, until he reached the 'iceberg' and quickly climbed aboard, closing the hatch so that no one noticed his escape.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Get Equipped

Location: MI6 Headquarters, London

Twelve hours later...

* * *

Bond stepped into Moneypenny's office and found M's personal secretary dressed in a flowing pink sundress, humming to herself as she watered the office plants.

"Morning, Moneypenny," he said, shutting the door behind him.

"Good morning, James. How was Russia?" she asked.

"Cold," he replied, "You look a little overdressed for the office, going somewhere?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Is M in?"

"She's downstairs meeting with a visitor," Moneypenny replied, "She wanted you to head down to Q Lab and familiarize yourself with some new equipment."

Bond nodded and immediately exited the office and stepped out into the brightly lit hallway, making his way towards the elevators. He swiped his ID and placed a finger within the scanner, granting him access to MI6's Research and Development department. A short ride down to the lower levels of MI6's Headquarters deposited Bond within the laboratory where he was greeted by Bill Tanner.

"Good morning, 007," Tanner said.

"Morning, Tanner. Been here long?"

"Been here for hours," he replied.

"How's the new Quartermaster fitting in?"

"Surprisingly well. Came all the way from the Scottish Headquarters," he answered.

The previous Quartermaster had suffered a mild stoke several months back and had been forced into early retirement due to poor health. Bond hoped the new head of Q Lab was nothing like the crusty old man his predecessor had been.

"I'm surprised that Hirani got passed over for the promotion," Bond commented.

"He actually turned down the offer."

"Really!? I would've thought he'd jump at the chance."

"Said he didn't want to deal with the added paperwork."

"So where is our new Quartermaster then?" he asked.

"He's right over there," Tanner replied, pointing to a man who as standing in front of a wall monitor; studying the image that was on display.

He was a young man of about thirty with short, wavy black hair, glasses, and dressed in a brown knitted sweater with a pair of dark plaid pants.

"You must be joking," Bond said with a shake of his head.

"Why, because I'm not wearing a lab coat?" the Quartermaster asked, turning to face them.  
"Because you still have spots," Bond replied.

"My complexion is hardly relevant," Q countered, approaching.

"You competence is."

"Age is no guarantee of efficiency."

"And youth is no guarantee of innovation."

"Well, I'll hazard I can do more damage on my laptop sitting in my pajamas before my first cup of Earl Grey than you can do in a year in the field," Q boasted.

"Oh, so why do you need me?" Bond snorted

"Because every now and then a trigger has to be pulled," he admitted.

"Or not pulled. It's hard to know in your pajamas," Bond stated, offering his hand, "Q."

"007," he replied, shaking it."

Tanner blinked in surprise at what had transpired between the two, but realized that their first meeting could've been worse. Bond walked away, approaching the wall monitor that was displaying a wireframe image of a cybernetic eye; taking note of the name: JONATHAN HUNTER 'GOLDENEYE'.

"So this is what his implant looks like," he commented.

"Yes, Mr. Hunter was kind enough to allow detailed scans of his implant before he dropped off the grid," Q stated, "my predecessor was quite impressed with it and the possible applications."

"005 could benefit," Tanner commented, "his defective eyesight is forcing him to resign from the 00 Section."

"I'd very much like to meet the man responsible for the development of such a device," Q stated.

"Good luck. Jona said that he never leaves his home country," the Chief of Staff commented.

"Pity."

Tanner knew that there was another reason why Q was disappointed, his overwhelming fear of flying meant that there was no chance that he would ever be able to meet with the ingenious Mahdi al-Fulan. Q grabbed a lockbox from off a nearby worktable and opened it before 007, revealing several pieces of equipment that lay within.

"Walther PPK/S 9mm," the Quartermaster said, removing the weapon, "it contains a micro dermal-sensor in the grip that's been coded to your palm-print so that only you may fire it. Less of a random killing machine and more of a personal statement."

"Impressive," Bond commented, getting a feel for the weapon.

"Your new Smart Phone; Sony Xperia," Q stated, handing him the mobile device.

"Same one that Jason had," Bond observed.

"Standard issue for all agents," he said, "you were the next on the list."

"What's this? Bond asked, removing another pistol-like device.

"That's our new Personal Rappel System," Q explained, "75 feet of fine steel cable attached to a self-embedding piton, capable of carrying a load of 300lbs. We've got a demonstration set up for you."

Q led Bond to another part of the workshop where a young woman, tall and leggy with sleek and shiny straw-coloured hair worn in a French pleat had set up some equipment. This, in conjunction with the large spectacles, seemed to give her a commanding manner and the name Q'ute, seemed to crawl into Bond's mind.

"007, this is my assistant; Ann Reilly," he introduced.

"Nice to meet you, 007," she greeted pleasantly.

"Miss. Reilly, could you please demonstrate to 007 our rappel technology?"

"Of course," she replied, removing the grapple gun from the lockbox, handing her glasses to Q.

She positioned herself before a large wall and aimed the grapple for the top of it before firing, sending the piston hurtling through the air. She attached the grapple gun to the belt around her waist and approached the wall, giving the line a tug. She planted her foot against the wall and began scaling the surface with ease, allowing her hands to eventually fall to her sides. Once she was halfway up the wall, Q'ute rotated her body 180 degrees, hoping from side to side before proceeding down the wall and planted her feet back on terra firma.

"Most impressive," Bond stated, watching a Q'ute disengaged the grapple, allowing it to fall harmlessly to the ground.

"Should the need arrive, it provides you with enough mobility to allow you to engage in a firefight," Q'ute stated, retracting the cable.

"Anything else you think I need before I head out?" Bond asked.

"Nothing that immediately comes to mind," Q admitted, handing Ann her glasses, "If I think of something, I'll be sure to ship it through Universal Exports."

Bond happened to glance over his shoulder and noticed that Tanner was on the phone, quickly hanging it up and returning it to his suit pocket.

"That was Moneypenny," he stated, "M's back in the office and Hirani's got the micro-comparator set up."


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Zorin Connection

Location: M's Office, MI6 Headquarters

Five minutes later...

* * *

There came a ding from the elevator as the doors slid apart and Tanner and Bond stepped out into the hallway, making a beeline for M's office. Moneypenny had stepped out momentarily, leaving Tanner and Bond free to let themselves into M's inner sanctum. She was seated behind her desk, patiently waiting for their arrival while Sanu Hirani busied himself with running a test of the micro-comparator.

"Ah good, now that we're all here you can get on with the briefing, Hirani," M said.

"A Central Processing Unit," Sanu announced, removing one from his lab coat pocket, "the essential component for every computer system."

"No need for a lecture, Hirani, we're well aware of what a CPU is," M commented.

"Well this one is Kohoni Industries' Military Grade Huànxiàng-PX36," Hirani explained, "Now if I place it on the micro-comparator along with other that 007 recovered from the body of 003."

They watched as the two images were overlaid and Bond immediately realized that the two images, though relatively the same had significant differences.

"There different," Tanner said.

"No. It appears to have undergone modifications," Sanu corrected.

"For what possible reason?" M questioned.

"Unsure," he admitted.

"What have the Chinese said about these stolen computer components?" Bond asked.

"The usually song and dance; there was no theft to speak of," M replied.

"I may have a possible motive," another voice stated.

Bond was the first to turn around first and noticed Ophelia Maidenstone of MI6's Data Intelligence Group standing behind them, a table computer clutched between her hands.

"What have you found, Agent Maidenstone?" M asked.

"Most of the data on 003's Smartphone was corrupted. Not at all surprising since a bullet passed right through it, but I was able to recover a partial image," she said, bringing the image up on the screen.

The image was of a green, circular logo with the letter Z directly in the center, while the letter I was laid over top of it.

"What is that?" Tanner asked.

"This is the logo of Zorin Industries," Philly explained, "the image was captured by 003 from a crate found within that abandoned storage facility in Siberia. Further investigations have revealed that Max Zorin's been attempting a takeover of Kohoni Industries, but both Sir Ching and Beijing have refused his takeover bids."

"So Ching was killed in an act of revenge?" Tanner questioned.

"What do we know about Zorin?" Bond asked.

Philly brought up the image of a man in his forties, with blonde hair that was slicked back and piercing blue eyes.

"Born in Dresden, immigrated to France as a teenager with his uncle; Carl Mortner following German Reunification, speaks at least five languages, no accent," M stated, "Made his first fortune in oil and gas trading, now second in high-tech and electronics."

"The ol' rags to riches story," Bond mused, "Who's that woman he's with...girlfriend?"

Philly stopped on one of the photographs that contained the image of a buff, dark skinned woman with messy hair that had been shaved on the back and the sides of her head.

"Oh...we're not sure about her," Tanner admitted, "South African possibly, maybe even Rwandan, or even Sudanese, she's never far from him though. Exact identity is unknown, goes by the name Mayday."

"Does Zorin still operate out of France?"

"No," Tanner replied, "about four years ago he relocated his corporate headquarters to Melbourne."

"That was around the same time that he retired from professional horseracing," Philly added.

"Yes, I distinctly recall that he was the owner of a racing steed that was quite famous amongst the racing circuits," Bond commented.

"Pegasus wasn't without controversy," Philly said, "Zorin was constantly dogged by doping allegations."

"Any truth to the allegations?" Bond asked.

"Unknown," Tanner answered, "The French Jockey Club hired a private investigator named Aubergine to investigate him, but Zorin retired from racing professionally before he had a chance to investigate."

"I'll board the next available flight to Melbourne then," Bond stated

"No," M said, "head over to the Foreign Office and see Robinson."

"What does Robinson have to do with this?" Bond questioned.

"He's the Director of the Foreign Office's Overseas Development Group," she explained.

"So that's what he's been up to," Bond commented.

"The ODG serves as liaisons between MI6 and the various Commonwealth aligned intelligence organizations. They also provide assistance to allied agents operating within Her Majesty's Overseas Realms," Tanner explained.

"I see."

"Head over there and see what information Robinson can provide you," M suggested again.

"Understood."

* * *

Location: Foreign Office

Two hours later...

* * *

Located on King Charles Street, the building that housed the Foreign and Commonwealth Office was fairly generic given that they're duty was to protect and promote the United Kingdoms' interests abroad. Bond's Saab 900 Turbo; appropriately nicknamed the Silver Beast followed the flow of traffic for several minutes until he pulled into an empty space within the parking lot. He climbed out of the vehicle and headed for the entrance to the building, finding himself standing within a large atrium. A young woman was covering the reception area, who immediately glanced up at him with bright green eyes upon his approach.

"Hello, can I help you?" she asked.

"I'm here to see Charles Robinson," Bond answered.

"Mr. Bond?" she inquired.

"That correct."

"He said to expect you," she stated, "I'll call for him, please take a sit while you wait."

Bond headed for the nearby waiting area and took a seat, picking up a magazine from off the table in front of him. He sat there for several minutes, flipping through the magazine when he heard someone call out his name. James looked up and saw Robinson walking towards him from the direction of the elevators, and climbed to his feet.

"Charles," Bond said, shaking his hand.

"It's been a while, James," he said, "M's already brought me up to speed on the situation."

"She says you might be able help," Bond stated.

"The ODG has an operative living in New South Wales; he suggests that you go see a man named Viktor Zukoff at the L'or Noir Casino in Baku, Azerbaijan."

"What do we know about this...Viktor Zukoff?" Bond asked, "...and how can he help?"

"Other then the fact that he's an Information Broker, there isn't any information on him until approximately three years ago," Robinson admitted, "but my operative insists that he may have come into possession of classified information pertaining Max Zorin."

"Classified?" Bond questioned, "Why would a French businessman have classified information about himself?"

"I donno," Charles replied, "but it does raise a number of serious questions."

"I guess I'll find out when I meet with this Mr. Zukoff," Bond said, "thanks for the help, Robinson."

"My pleasure, when you have whatever information he's sitting on head to New South Wales."

"I thought Zorin operated out of Melbourne?"

"That only Zorin Industries," Robinson correct, "he lives in New South Wales, in a sprawling estate outside Newcastle."

"Alright, thanks again, Robinson."

"Let me know what you have and I'll help in whatever way I can."


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Vices

Location: Baku, Azerbaijan

Twenty-four hours later...

* * *

A green Bentley Mulsanne Turbo sped along the thoroughfares of the Azerbaijani capital as Bond made his way towards the historical Walled City. A local agent had lent him the car, but did so threatening pain of death if he so much as scratched its paint job. Apparently if you totaled a handful of cars in the service to Queen and Country, suddenly everyone thought you made a habit of it. The evening traffic was light, allowing Bond to push the vehicle slightly past the posted speed limit, so as to avoid being pulled over by the local authorities.

_"At three hundred yards, turn left,"_ the GPS chimed.

Pulling out onto the streets of İcheri sheher, Bond slowed the vehicle to a stop and parked across from the entrance to the L'or Noir Casino. The building in which the casino would be housed was still undergoing renovation, as evident by the construction equipment that was stored in the adjacent alleyway. Bond stepped out of the vehicle and immediately began walking in the opposite direction, so as to convince any sentries that he wasn't worth observing. He walked for approximately a block before crossing the street and proceeded towards the casino, slipping into the alley and making his way to the side entrance. He removed the Walther PPK/S from the shoulder holster and pressed his body against the doorframe, waiting several seconds before stepping inside. He could hear music coming from further within the casino; Tammy Wynette's 'Stand by your Man', although the singer was doing a wonderful job of butchering it. With weapon at the ready, he proceeded through the cramped hallway, careful to avoid knocking over any of the tools carelessly left scattered about. He heard a noise and quickly hid himself behind a cabinet, watching as a man emerged from an adjacent room. He was a slightly older man, dressed in a finely tailored white suit, with thick black hair, and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache, although it did little to hide the nasty scar across his right cheek. The scar betrayed the man's true identity; that in conjunction with Viktor Zukoff's sudden appearance almost three years earlier and the similar sounding name confirmed that he was in fact Valentin Zukovsky. He watched as the Russian Mobster entered a side room and quickly followed after, hoping to catch him alone and off guard. Zukovsky grabbed a bottle of vodka from off his desk, pouring himself a shot as he downed it in a single gulp. Bond silently passed through the curtain and flicked the safety catch off, causing the mobster's body to stiffen.

"Walther PPK," Zukovsky stated, "Only three men use such a gun, I believe I've killed two of them."

"Lucky me," James said.

He heard the safety being removed from another weapon and glanced over his shoulder, finding one of Zukovsky's men standing behind him.

"I think not," he said, slamming the glass down on the desk.

Bond immediately put his hands up, allowing the Walther to dangle from his index finger as Zukovsky's goon seized it from him, dragging him towards another part of the casino, where the music was the loudest. He was shoved into a chair within what could pass as a cabaret club and Zukovsky took as seat in front of him.

"James Bond. Charming, sophisticated secret agent. Shaken, but not stirred," Zukovsky said, causing his men to laugh.

"I see in 'death' you haven't lost your delicate sense of humour, Valentin," Bond commented, before nodding his head in the direction of the stage, "Or your need for an audience. Who's strangling the cat?"

"Strangling a cat?" he asked with obvious amusement.

He looks over at the woman singing on stage and pulled a Makarov PMM with a pearl handle from his jacket and fired a single shot between his legs. Bond flinched as a plume of feathers flew into the air; the bullet having embedded itself into the chair.

"That is Irina, my mistress!" he shouted, pointing in the direction of the stage.

"Very talented girl," Bond said, a little unnerved.

"Irina, take a hike!" Zukovsky yelled.

Irina, who was deeply engaged in her off key singing suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, flipping Zukovsky the bird as she stormed off stage.

"So Mr. Bond, what is it that brings you to my neighborhood?" he asked; now that were no longer disturbed by Irina's horrid singing.

"I was told that you might possess information about a man named Max Zorin," he said.

"Your dismantling of SPECTRE with Mr. Hunter has opened up whole new avenues for my business," he said, getting off topic, "so as a courtesy I'll share what information I have...and because you killed that bitch who tried to kill me."

"Yeah, I was wondering about that," Bond admitted, "How did you survive? I saw you fall through a windowpane when we last spoke in Barcelona."

"She should've aimed for my head, instead she hit a lung," he stated, "Now...about Zorin."

"What can you tell me about him?"

"He was the by-product of Soviet medical experiments," Zukovsky explained, "His 'uncle' is actually a former scientist named Hans Glaub. His parents were in charge of the Polish camps and they premitted him to conduct his own expariments on the prisoners, usually that involved injecting large quantity of steroids into women and children. He was captured by the Red Army when we pushed the Nazis out of Poland in 1944."

"Why wasn't he turned over to the International Court of Justice?" Bond asked.

Zukovsky didn't immediately answer; instead he removed a Cuban cigar from his pocket and clipped off the end with a cigar-cutter. He lit the end with a wooden match and took a long inhale, expelling a large amount of white smoke into the air.

"After his capture, he was co-opted by Stalin who believed that the experiments he conducted into steroid development would be beneficial to the Soviet Union," Valentin replied, "He was even put in charge of the Soviet Doping Program under the watch of the KGB."

"What about the program that birthed Zorin?" Bond asked.

"It was just a continuation of the experiments that Glaub conducted in the concentration camps, except he injected pregnant women with high-quantities of steroids hoping to create 'super-children' from the unborn fetuses," Zukovsky answer.

"And how many were born as a result?"

"Less then twenty survived, but those who did were gifted with extraordinary intelligence, but also suffered from psychosis."

"What made Zorin and Glaub to come to the west?"

"It was when the Kremlin assigned General Gogol to 'Clean House'," he answered, tapping the cigar against the ashtray, "Glaub considered Zorin to be the embodiment of Aryan perfection and didn't want to see his crowning achievement destroyed."

"So they used the German Reunification to cover their defection," Bond said.

"That's right. They took on new identities – Hans Glaub became Carl Mortner and Max took the surname Zorin, allowing them to integrate themselves into western society. The Russian Federation didn't even know that Zorin was the last known surviving steroid kid when he returned years later to adopt his son."

"Son? I wasn't even aware he had a kid," Bond admitted.

"Yeah...name's Nikolai Diavolo. Was the sole survivor of a plane crash that claimed his parents when he was a toddler. I hear he's quite the piano prodigy," Zukovsky explained.

"How old was Glaub when he worked in the camps?"

"He was just a teenager when we captured him," Zukovsky replied, "...He'd be in his late nineties now."

Valentin removed a USB drive from his pocket and slid it across the table, Bond slamming his palm down on the surface to catch it.

"All the information I have is on that drive," he said.

"One other thing; what happened to the remaining Steroid Kids?"

"They were deemed too dangerous and where purged by the KGB," Valentin replied, "although there are rumors that Zorin wasn't the only survivor."

Bond rose to his feet, slipping the flash drive into his pocket and had his PPK/S returned to him; unloaded of course.

"Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome, but the next time you decide to pay me a visit, Mr. Bond, could you please use the door like a normal person?" he asked.

"No promises," he said, departing.


End file.
